


Dancing with the Devil

by TwistedWonderland



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry is sexy, Glee References, Karaoke, M/M, Michael Jackson - Freeform, Singing, so is Santana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedWonderland/pseuds/TwistedWonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karaoke Night begins as something to help the teams unwind, until Barry is chosen to face off against someone. Someone sexy. Someone dangerous. Someone who may vary well be Satan herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing with the Devil

Barry danced with the devil during Karaoke night.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, the night in question. For the past few days a nasty little meta human, whom Cisco had christened the Gravity Guru due to his ability to manipulate the gravity around any object, was going around lifting various jewels and artwork from some of the most well secured museums in the city. Despite Barry’s best efforts, the Flash eventually came to the conclusion he needed help.

And so, leaving Starling City in the, hopefully, capable hands of Laurel and Thea, the original members of Team Arrow flocked to Central City.

The final battle between the Guru and the Flash/Green Arrow was as epic as it sounds. Cars levitated off the streets, arrows heavier then lead and the constant Felicity chatter in their ears all combined into an absolutely epic climax that only ended after the Guru tired himself out. There was only so much gravity manipulation his body could handle, before it just gave out, leaving the Flash free to swoop in and drag the guy back to his new home in the pipeline.

After such an intense battle, causing an estimated $215,392.23 in property damage according to Cisco, the two teams unanimously came to the conclusion a much, much deserved drink was in order. Which is how two vigilantes, a former military man, a computer expert, a geneticist, a mechanical engineer, and journalist all wound up scrunched together at a table in a not-terrible looking bar known as Gleeful Nights.

And it just so happened that this particular night in question just so happened to be the bar’s annual Karaoke Battle, advertised as “One of the Best Worse Decisions of Your Life.” The bar was packed, nearly every table, booth, and stool occupied, with all eyes were trained on stage. A large fishbowl stood near the curly-haired emcee, which contained the names of every bar patron, a requirement for entry. Two names were drawn, a song was chosen at random, and the crowd decided which victim would receive the honor of obtaining their next drink at half price. And, after almost an hour into the Battle, Barry had had enough.

"Have any of these people ever sung before?” Barry asked, sipping down his fourth beer, wished Caitlin had had enough time to distill some of her famous 500 proof for him, as too hopefully make the night’s entertainment not sound like dying walruses.

“Come on, Barry!” Caitlin exclaimed, her face flushed red with booze. “This is hilarious.”

“True,” Felicity said, sipping her water. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that drunk rap the entire Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme before.”

“I would have been better if that was the song he was supposed to sing.” Dig muttered.

“Drunk karaoke is the bomb.” Cisco beamed.

“Remember we when sung karaoke together?” Caitlin slurred. Iris raised an eyebrow at the speedster, who flushed as Caitlin slung an arm over the speedster’s shoulders and began to hum Summer Nights.

“Was he any good?” Felicity asked, leaning in as if this were an especially juicy piece of gossip.

“Totally. He, like, was amazing. He-he-he totally warbled his heart out.” Caitlin dissolved into a fit of giggles as she swiped Cisco’s gin and tonic from the Latino’s grasp.

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Oliver said. Barry turned even redder, content on downing his beer as slowly as he could so he didn’t have to respond to the older male.

“Oh, yeah. Barry’s a great singer,” Iris supplied, eyes sliding from one vigilante to another. “In high school he totally would have joined this all guy a cappella group over the summer if he hadn’t gone to reptile camp instead.”

Barry fought the rising cough; choking on the generous mouthful of alcohol he just pounded in a vain attempt to feel even the slightest hint of a buzz.

“You make it sound nerdier then it was,” Barry grumbled. Iris stifled a laugh and traced her finger along the salted rim of her glass.

“Trust me Barry, it was way nerdier then you think.”

Felicity giggled and Barry swore he could see Oliver Queen, Oliver fucking Queen, smirk at his own humiliation. He downed the rest of his drink in record time, begging every deity he could think of to get him out of this situation.

Thankfully, the emcee announcing the next contestants prevented him from answering his best friend.

“Let’s give another round of applause to that…astounding rendition of One Directions Live While We’re Young.” The applause varied from the drunk roar (Caitlin) to the sober indifferent (Oliver). “Now our next contestant is-”

The emcee’s hand disappeared into the bowl for only a moment before it came back with a single piece of folded paper. Barry wanted to shout at the guy to hurry the hell up and to quit it with all the Hunger Games dramatics.

“Barry Allen”

Fuck.

“Woo. Go Barry!” Felicity practically shouted over the loud cheer of his friends, her smile blinding. Iris leaned back in her chair, a self-satisfied smirk on her face as if she had something to do with Barry’s name being drawn. Barry rolled his eyes as he stood up.

“Good luck,” Oliver nodded, as solemn and dignified as ever. Barry quickly turned away, unwilling to let the Green Arrow see the blush that dusted his cheeks.

“This is gonna be good,” Iris said as she watched her best friend make his way to the stage. “Whoever he's facing doesn’t stand a chance.”

“You got that right, girlfriend!” Caitlin said, before her face scrunched together, as if, even in her drunken state, she regretted saying those words aloud.

Barry had just positioned himself behind the microphone, before the emcee called for a hush. The speedster rocked back and forth on his heels, hands in the pockets of his jeans, surveying the crowd, wondering who would be the poor sap facing off against him.

As humble as Barry was, he could admit that he had a great voice. Everyone told him so. Iris while they were growing up, the high school drama teacher, even the random cops who’d duck in and out of his lab whenever they needed something and they caught Barry in a cheerful enough mood to be singing softly under his breath.

He looked over at the emcee who had just pulled the second name. Again, he waited for the crowd to settle before dramatically unfolding the slip. The emcee’s brow furrowed as he brought the paper closer to his eyes, squinting hard at the name.

“Satan Pierce?” he asked, unsure if he was reading the name correctly. The bar patrons eyed each other, then the rest of the bar wondering if someone had written down a false name.

“It’s Santana actually,” A voice called out to Barry’s right. “Why don’t you go back to school and learn to read? And while you’re there, maybe you’ll learn why that whole Jew-fro pubic hair hybrid you’ve got growing out of your skull won't be getting you laid tonight.”

Barry turned his head just as a Latina woman waltzed onto the stage. She wore high waisted jean shorts and her thick, dark hair blended seamlessly into her button down blouse. But, as she made eye contact with Barry on her way towards the mic, he couldn’t resist the urge to take a step back. He felt her eyes roam over his body, slow and long, like he was some sort of prey.

“Uh, hi…Santana?” Barry said, trying his best not to shrink under her gaze. He scolded himself for even entertaining the thought of being intimidated by her. For god’s sake he’s faced a telepathic gorilla and stared down the barrel of a gun more times then he cared to remember. There’s no way in hell he’d let some stranger get the better of him.

“That’s my name. Glad we ascertained your short term memory isn’t complete crap. The last guy I did this with couldn’t remember his own name, let alone how to sing.” She said, sliding in closer to Barry then he was comfortable with. He could feel the swell of her breast pressed against his torso add of the fierce blush creeping down his neck.

“Now, why would he forget something so important?” she asked, drawing a perfectly manicured nail up Barry’s arm. The hero tongue swelled in his mouth and he could feel the perspiration slide from his pits down to the waistband of his jeans.

“You remind me of someone,” she said, a small thoughtful smile playing on her full, glossy lips.

“Thanks?” Barry said his throat suddenly dry.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she said. “He blinded a friend of mine and tried to steal from my friends.”

Barry sucked in a breath, not expecting that response nor knowing how exactly to respond to it.

“Don’t worry, you’re not him,” Santana said. “I guess you just have one of those familiar meerkat like faces.”

At that, Barry felt something pang in his chest. Defiance, maybe. “I don’t look like a meerkat.”

“Whatever you say, Chipmunk Cheeks,” Santana said, a lazy smile seeping across her face as she pulled away. “But, we’re here to sing though and not discuss who looks like what Savannah dwelling rodent. So either put up or shut up.”

Before Barry could point out that the meerkat wasn’t a Savannah dweller, but a desert dweller, Santana looked past him to the emcee and bellowed,

“Hit it!”

The emcee practically jumped out of his skin as thick fingers scrambled across the control panel. The screen in front of the singers lit up, displaying the title, just as the familiar sound of a cello began to fill the club. Santana let out a short, bark of a laugh before looking at Barry.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, gripping his microphone.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. “It’s just that I’m having some serious déjà vu right now. All I need is a recorder taped to my underboob and for you to be wearing a Hogwarts uniform and I’d be back in high school.”

Barry barely had time to process what his opponent was saying before he leapt into the song, resolving not to let this woman, this Santana, get under his skin.

_[Barry:]_

_Uh, as he came into the window_  
It was the sound of a crescendo, uh!  
He came into her apartment  
He left the bloodstains on the carpet, uh!  
She ran underneath the table  
He could see she was unable  
So she ran into the bedroom  
She was struck down  
It was her doom  
Annie are you OK? 

For that first verse, Barry was on cloud nine. The cellos, his voice, and the gentle sway of the crowd was almost euphoric. He was never on stage much as a kid, math and science nerds didn’t mix well with theater geeks, but he could understand the urge to be beneath a spotlight. The lights, the music, it was almost hypnotizing, spilling into his veins through his skin.

Then Santana broke through his high with a single line.

_[Santana:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_

Sultry. Sexy. Orgasmic. Her voice was so many things at once. Heat curled through Barry’s body and he fought through the fog it created to spit out the next line.

_[Barry:]  
Are you OK, Annie?_

_[Santana:]  
Annie are you OK?_

They next lines are quick. Barry. Santana. Back and forth like a dance, neither one of them willing to let the other lead. Tensions rise.

_[Barry:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_

_[Santana:]  
Are you OK, Annie?_

And higher.

_[Barry:]  
Annie are you OK?_

_[Santana:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_

And higher.

_[Barry:]  
Are you OK, Annie?_

_[Santana:]  
Annie are you OK?_

_[Barry:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_

Both Barry and Santana free their mics from their respective stands, the long metal poles colliding against the stage with twin thuds and turn to face their opponent. Neither one of them needing the lyrics on screen as they circle one another.

_[Santana and Barry:]_  
Are you OK, Annie?  
Annie are you OK?  
Will you tell us that you’re OK ([Barry:] uh!)  
There’s a sign in the window  
That he struck you - A crescendo Annie  
He came into your apartment  
He left the bloodstains on the carpet ([Barry:] uh!)  
Then you ran into the bedroom  
You were struck down  
It was your doom. 

His breath was on her skin. 

_[Barry:]  
Annie are you OK?_

_[Santana:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_

Her eyes drank in every movement, every sway. He looked absolutely…delicious.

_[Barry:]  
Are you OK Annie?_

_[Santana:]  
Annie are you OK? ___

__They were so close, green and brown eyes unwavering as they moved around each other. They were vultures circling dying prey. They were lovers dancing in a crowded room with eyes only for each other._ _

___[Barry:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_ _ _

___[Santana:]  
Are you OK Annie?_ _ _

__Heat curled in Santana’s core. Every inch of her skin burned with desire and passion that split her at the seams. She wanted him to submit, to cower. But he wouldn’t. And that…that turned her on. So. Fucking. Much._ _

_____[Barry:]_  
Annie are you OK?  
[Santana:]  
So, Annie are you OK? 

__Barry felt her hands, soft and warm, on her torso. Fabric curled into her hads, like she was afraid to let go. His voice ached, his lungs burned with need. He wanted her to submit, to slink away from the spotlight. But, he knew she wouldn’t._ _

___[Santana and Barry:]  
Are you OK Annie?_ _ _

___[Barry:]  
You’ve been hit by_ _ _

___[Santana:]  
You’ve been hit by_ _ _

___[Santana and Barry:]  
A Smooth Criminal_ _ _

__Santana hands pulled at the fabric, buttons scattering the stage the fabric exposed Barry’s torso to the bar. The cool air sent waves of gooseflesh across his skin, trying to cool the fire Santana had set in bones that vibrated with the cellos._ _

__He let the fabric fall from his shoulder, just as Santana practically shred her own shirt, a strapless black bra breaking to the surface. Despite being bare chested in a room full of people, Barry didn’t notice. All he cared about was her…Santana who’s touch sent electricity sparking under her finger._ _

__“So,” she licked her lips, slow and sensual as if they were the only two people in the room. Then he felt her fingers close around his throat, not enough to strangle, but enough to feel. Feel the electricity, the heat, the cool wedding ring she wore. “Are you going to ravage me or what?”_ _

__“I don’t think you’re husband would like that,” Barry growled, secretly proud of his even, demanding voice._ _

__“Hate to break it to you babe,” Santana’s tongue, wet with gloss and saliva, bowled over the shell of his ear. “I’m fucking gay.”_ _

__“And so are you,” she said before bracing her hands on his shoulders and leaping. Long dancer legs wrapped around his waist as Barry hands held her steady. Between them, Santana held her microphone._ _

_____[Barry:]_  
So they came into the outway  
It was Sunday - What a black day, uh!  
Mouth to mouth resuscitation  
Sounding heartbeats - Intimidations  
Annie are you OK? 

__Barry braced himself as their back-and-forth started up again._ _

___[Santana:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_ _ _

___[Barry:]  
Are you OK Annie?_ _ _

___[Santana:]  
Annie are you OK?_ _ _

___[Barry:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_ _ _

___[Santana:]  
Are you OK Annie?_ _ _

___[Barry:]  
Annie are you OK?_ _ _

___[Santana:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_ _ _

___[Barry:]  
Are you OK Annie?_ _ _

___[Santana:]  
Annie are you OK?_ _ _

___[Barry:]  
So, Annie are you OK?_ _ _

__Santana let herself fall, but pressed her forehead to Barry’s._ _

_____[Barry and Santana:]_  
Annie are you OK?  
Will you tell us that you’re OK  
There’s a sign in the window  
That he struck you - A crescendo Annie  
He came into your apartment  
He left the bloodstains on the carpet, uh!  
Then you ran into the bedroom  
You were struck down  
It was your doom 

___Annie are you OK?  
Are you OK Annie?_ _ _

___[Barry:]  
You’ve been hit by_ _ _

___[Santana:]  
You’ve been struck by_ _ _

___[Santana and Barry:]  
A Smooth Criminal_ _ _

__Oliver Queen’s mouth had gone dry roughly around the same time nearly all his brain functions came to a grinding halt. His pants were too tight, his mouth was too dry, and fuck, Barry. Barry with that woman. Emotions danced before him. Anger, jealously, fear. He wanted them apart, to be with Barry like she was with him. The vigilante hand no idea where the thoughts had come from, but they were there now, bubbling to the surface as Barry sang. The bob of his Adam’s apple. The sway of her hips. God the two of them. Together. They were sensual. Sexy. Hotter then everloving fuck._ _

__“Aren’t they hot?” A voice asked behind him. Oliver Queen nearly jumped. Nearly, because no one, no one, gets the drop on him._ _

__“What?” he asked, turning to the voice. A blonde woman, her hair in a tight ponytail smiled at him._ _

__“Them,” she pointed at Barry and Santana. “I was lonely. And you’re the only person I can talk to.”_ _

__“What?” Oliver asked, confusion and annoyance written across his face. He was missing them, Barry and the woman. He didn’t want to talk to whoever this woman was._ _

__“I’ve never wanted to have sex with Santana more than I do watching them right now,” her tone was blunt, as if she didn’t understand the magnitude of her words. It was as if she were discussing the weather. “And you want to have sex with Sebastian, don’t you?”_ _

__“Who?” Oliver asked. Again the woman pointed at the stage, the two of them already singing their final verse. It was loud and powerful and made Oliver’s gut twist and writhe with pleasure. If possible his pants became even tighter, so much so he ached. Ached for him. For Barry as he danced, bare chested with a stranger who refused to submit._ _

__There back-and-forth had reached their climax. They were lungs and passion combined in to one entity, feeding off what they had created._ _

_____[Santana (Barry):]_  
I don’t know!  
(Annie are you OK, Will you tell us, that you’re OK)  
I don’t know!  
(There’s a sign in the window)  
I don’t know!  
(That he struck you - A crescendo Annie)  
I don’t know!  
(He came into your apartment)  
I don’t know!  
(Left bloodstains on the carpet)  
I don’t know why baby!  
(Then you ran into the bedroom)  
I don’t know!  
(You were struck down)  
(It was your doom - Annie!)  
(Annie are you OK?)  
Dang, gone it - Baby!  
(Will you tell us, that you’re OK)  
Dang, gone it - Baby!  
(There’s a sign in the window)  
Dang, gone it - baby!  
(That he struck you - A crescendo Annie)  
Hoo! Hoo!  
(He came into your apartment)  
Dang, gone it!  
(Left bloodstains on the carpet, uh!)  
Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!  
(Then you ran into the bedroom)  
Dang gone it!  
(You were struck down)  
(It was your doom - Annie!) 

___[Barry:]  
You’ve been hit by_ _ _

_____[Santana and Barry:]_  
You’ve been struck by  
A Smooth Criminal 

__And just like that. It was over_ _

__Silence stretched on for eternity in the single moment the song ended. No one cheered. No one applauded. No one breathed. Every soul in the bar had long stopped drinking, and talking, and moping, and all stared. Stared at the two who dancing and sang and birthed so much on that stage._ _

__And then that eternity ended and the roar was defining. Shouts and applause and cheers blended into white noise. Both Barry and Santana heaved gulps of air into their chests, high off what they had done. Barry recovered moments before Santana did, raising to his full height and blushing at his shirtlessness._ _

__“Well done,” Santana praised her hand resting on his shoulder. “But the best part has yet to come.”_ _

__The Latina grabbed the speedsters hand and yanked him through the forest of cheers. Pats on the back and high fives bombarded him at every turn. He felt delirious as he let this woman pull him to his friends._ _

__He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t stop himself. The surprise, the utter shock that adorned their faces was too much. Broken glass littered the ground beneath Iris, her drink slipping from her grasp at Barry’s behavior._ _

__“Brit!” Santana called. The blonde Oliver had just spoken to ran for her wife, collided their lips in a hungry and heated kiss._ _

__“If you weren’t already getting all the lady kisses and scissoring tonight, I would totally be offering myself to you.” Brittany said between the kisses she peppered across Santana’s lips and lower jaw._ _

__Barry looked away from the scene, eyes finding Oliver suddenly too close. He looked up into his brown eyes, suddenly not the most intense things he’s ever faced._ _

__“So, what did you think?” he breathed, terrified of his answer. Oliver didn’t respond, but smashed his lips to Barry’s in a similar fashion as Brittany had._ _

__“So. Fucking. Hot.” Oliver found himself agreeing as he sucked the supple skin of Barry’s neck. The rest of the table, Iris, Felicity, Dig, Caitlin, and Cisco, who had practically already gone into shock felt heir grip on reality slip as Oliver and Brittany kissed the singers. The roar of the crowd still as loud as ever._ _

__Without breaking Oliver’s kisses or turning his head, Barry’s eyes met Santana’s. Both burning with intensity that refused to submit to each other. The Latina smirked, broke the kiss with Brittany, grabbed the other girl’s hand, and led her out of the bar and into the night without a goodbye._ _

__Barry blinked at where the girls once stood and glanced at his table, Oliver still kissing and sucking on every part he could. Just as a new haze had almost engulfed his mind, he heard Felicity breath out._ _

__“What the fuck just happened?”_ _

__“Satan. Satan happened.” Barry thought, before the haze engulfed all that he was and kissed Oliver back with the almost the same intensity as he was giving him._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I made this for Olivarry week months ago and figured I might as well post it here. 
> 
> Shameless, obligatory tumblr plug: http://twistedwonderlandbrokenoz.tumblr.com/


End file.
